Dudley Fitts

During my senior year at Andover, I took a course in Greek mythology with Dudley Fitts. In that class of approximately 10, all seniors, were Hollis Frampton and Frank Stella, as well as lesser lights academically, such as Jack High and me. The reading list was formidable and cut a swath through not only the major works of Homer but also those of the great classic Greek tragedians. When it came time for the final examination in the spring, there was a welter of material to master.

I began, weeks in advance, to prepare for that examination. During the course, I had prepared a series of file cards, three-by-five, on which I had written the name and genealogy of every god, goddess, demigod, and nymph, to say nothing of all of the characters in Samson Agonistes and Clytaemnestra. I had assembled many hundreds of them and went through them, meticulously, one by one, scores of times. By the time our small band met in Bulfinch Hall to receive the exam questions, along with the obligatory “blue book,” from Dudley Fitts, I was as well prepared for that examination as I was capable of being. In fact, I relished the opportunity to “show my stuff.”

To each of us, Dudley Fitts handed a single sheet of paper on which was written these instructions: “Write a play using the following characters: Zeus, Io, Athena, Nestor, and Jack High.” I blanched! What was I to do with the genealogies countless I had memorized? And how was I ever going to write a play? I had never done anything truly creative in my life! But panic soon was overcome by the harsh reality of the situation and my brain went headlong into another mode of thinking.

A. Bernard Ackerman '54

In the ensuing two hours, I actually wrote a play, in rhyme, some of the lines of which were ribald—and the experience, at first terrifying, became a terrific challenge and fun to boot.

The next day, we were informed by Dudley Fitts that he wanted us to come to his home and read our plays out loud so that each member of the class could revel in the work of mates. Fitts himself was so pleased with the products submitted to him that he told us he planned to ensure that each of our plays would be housed permanently in the Oliver Wendell Holmes Library.

That episode from my senior year at Andover changed the way I thought about myself and about my possibilities. By virtue of the genius of Dudley Fitts, I came to understand that one might actually have a reservoir of creativity if only the source of it is tapped. The single-sentence examination given by Dudley Fitts induced in me an epiphany, one I would like to think proved a boon, some years later, to my own students. How fortunate is he who, in the play known as life, has a deus ex machina in the form of a Dudley Fitts descend upon the stage!

A. Bernard Ackerman spent his entire professional life in academia. He is director emeritus of the Ackerman Academy of Dermatopathology in New York City.